Buried Cosmos~Seychelles
Title: Buried Cosmos
Author: tiaordona
Rating: T, for sexual themes.
Fandom: Harvest Moon: Another Wonderful Life
Disclaimer: Good one! XD
Prompt: 114, Seychelles
Summary: The promise of a new marriage is exhilarating, blinding. Jill knows this, but even she is devoid of the vision of her future with Marlin. This is the tale of of the three skipped year of their first phase of marriage, the truth under their happily-married facade.
Start from the beginning.
A serene, isolated paradise, a gem against the endless coast. A shimmering jewel, a fairyland of cerulean blue, lush green, and blazing tan. A paradise, the beauty of tranquility, the peace that blossoms blissfully, stretching on against the dark gray of the jagged boulders nestled on the edge of the beach. The corner of the earth, the edge of the earth. Timeless.
My childhood journeys to Seychelles were the highlights of my life. It had been an escape, a way to shelter against the turbulent flow of time, the world, life. It was an easy route to blinding oneself of the horrors of society. Seychelles was the object of my fantasies, my reason for breathing, for trudging through a broken childhood with just one parent.
Just like Marlin: My reason for running a farm, gaining strength, becoming one with myself, earning respect from others. Marlin loves me and I love Marlin, and isn’t that how it always will be?
On this day, I can never be so sure.
The waves swirl around my legs, the water cool and silky about my calves. The wind caresses my cheeks, tugging at my hair. It colors the beach of Forget-Me-Not Valley in dreary shades of blue, the gray, downcast stratus lurking in the sky. The world is buried in shadow, mirroring my emotions. Not Seychelles, but close enough.
“The scenery here sure is beautiful. Isn’t it, Jill?”
My heart shudders wildly and I cup a single hand over it, muffling the fluttering beats. But it is only Gustafa. His red-oak guitar is perched lopsidedly on his side, his green hat towering over him, the flowers peeping from it. His chapped lips are curled into a serene, knowing smile that I cannot help but return.
“Er…yeah,” I stutter awkwardly, absently recalling my younger days in Seychelles. He nods and tips his head to the sky, admiring the thick layers of rain clouds and feeling the ocean spray against his face.
“So…” he rocks back on his heels, the breeze toying with his minuscule ponytail. “How’s married life?”
A pang, fresh with hurt in my heart. “Um…well…”
Through the circular lenses of his sunglasses, he glances at me critically. “You know you can tell me anything.” A pregnant pause, until he gives birth to the words that have been haunting me, a long-standing question I have always dreaded. “Is he hurting you?”
I frantically wave my hands, beating the words from existence. “No, no! It’s nothing like that.” I try to sound strong, but my throat cracks sheepishly.
“Well, then…” he gazes at me intently and plops down on the soft sand, propping his elbows on his knees and slouching, catlike. “Enlighten me.”
I drop to my knees, sinking into the ground. The sun feebly peeks from a cloud, making the ocean glitter endlessly.
Not Seychelles, but close enough.
I hesitantly swipe a piece of seaweed from the damp sand, peeling apart the okra-tinted layers. “He didn’t hurt me…” I explain, trailing off as I avert my eyes from his.
“…I hurt him.”
He tilts his head, silently coaxing more words from my mouth. “He…he wanted to…er, take me. And, I said no, that it wasn’t the time. But…I could tell he really wanted to.” Gustafa nods, putting the pieces together. Musicians have an incredible ability to string together notes, patterns, make sure the tones and pitches form a perfect harmony, an expression that all can understand.
At this thought, the bottled-up story finally breaks free, escaping my mouth.
“How could I be so blind? I never willed for anything like this to happen. It was like…” I sigh heavily. “Like when we got married, I was too blinded by love to even think ahead.”
Gustafa digests the information, contemplating it. Again, he raises his head to the sky, as if searching for answers in the eternal arc. “Sometimes…sometimes we think we are blind when we see what’s really there.” He looks back at me. “You dig?”
I blink once. Do I really? Am I just seeing something that is real, a river of passion, a reservoir deep inside of me?
“Go talk to him,” Gustafa cuts in sharply, his voice hard and yet gentle and kind. “Find out what’s wrong. Go, Jill.”
---
My feet hastily trot along the dirt road, dragging me all the way to Marlin’s workplace, the farm.
A part of me is aroused, hungry to be with my love. And yet, another part of me is hesitant, almost as if it is a foreshadowing of the things that could be happening. I try in vain to push away the terrible visions of him, loping from Forget-Me-Not Valley, running away. No matter how hard I try, they come back...I will never forget the hurt in his eyes, the pure lust in his actions. As I job clumsily down the winding path, my heart shrivels in tentative fear, the unwilling feelings inside of me bubbling and boiling.
The fence looms in view, becoming closer and closer and closer, the mismatched planks barely clinging on to how useful they were in the past. I gasp for oxygen, a burning cramp kinking the muscles of my calf. But I stop dead when I see his familiar rumpled shirt and jeans, his pile of ebony locks. He is curled protectively around something, enfolding it in his strong arms, and pressing his chin up against it, his ice eyes narrowed as if he is battling some torrent of emotion.
And then my blood freezes.
He is passionately holding Celia.
The smile melts off of my face, and the world turns to a bloody color of crimson. A breeze ruffles her green calico skirt, entwining it around his legs. Her fingers seductively lie on his chest, the tips of them almost digging into his pectoral muscles. She is pressed up against him.
Loving him.
“Our marriage is sacred…”
Seychelles is shattered into a million shards, shards that no one will ever bother to pick back up. The little fantasy of mine has just broken my heart, scattering its remains.
And never again will I have the energy to pick them up.